The Kiss
by Ariana Paris
Summary: Post 4x18. Sylar and Claire's first kiss.


_Originally written in response to the following prompt on the Sylaire kink meme at LiveJournal: "__Making out. No penetration of any kind, please!"_

It isn't supposed to feel like this.

His lips should be cracked and dry, like sandpaper rasping against her skin. She should feel the memory of every man, woman and child he has murdered burning her as his tongue violates her mouth, taking what she doesn't want to give, just as he has always done.

But his lips are as soft as velvet, his movements awkward, almost innocent, as he leans in to kiss her. His lips brush against hers a moment, his breath warm on her skin, and she thinks he's asking for permission. She should be screaming at him to stop after everything he has done to her, to her family, to innocent people whose names she will never know. But she tilts her head upwards, bringing her mouth into contact with his, suddenly aware that for all their age difference, she may have done this as often as he has.

She hears him breathe in sharply; relief, perhaps, or surprise that she's letting him do this. She's surprised too, but she knows what she's doing. Sylar is a shadow of the monster he once was; for all her hatred, for all her memories, Claire can see that and it sometimes breaks her heart to see anyone brought so low. And yet lately, there have been more sparks of the man he should have been. Some of Sylar's wicked humour, a touch of sadism in his interaction with those he doesn't like, or those who hurt or antagonise Claire. But beside that, she sees glimpses of a man she never knew; the one who spent hours rebuilding a watch for the simple satisfaction of listening to it tick once again, who felt real despair at the thought of becoming a killer, even though in the end he was too weak to resist.

The pressure of his lips on hers has increased and although they aren't touching beyond a light embrace, Claire can guess the strength of his desire for her. He doesn't push further, and Claire is the one who takes the lead, watching the gentle suction of each kiss on his mouth make his lips turn rosy red. She opens her mouth, teases him with her tongue and he parts his lips hesitantly.

She's been cautious to avoid this until now. She's very young, but she knows he's vulnerable and he's clinging to her like a lifeline. She's the only one who really knows, in the most intimate detail, just how low he fell, and ever since they met again, she knows he has been using that to keep himself in check. He wants her to remind him every day of what will happen if he relapses. Her presence tormented his fractured mind in the beginning, sometimes causing mood swings so violent that he seemed almost to be two different people - three counting the still present memories of Nathan embedded by Matt Parkman. But it's been a few weeks now and he seems calmer, his mood swings less pronounced as if he has finally made his peace with the conflicting facets of his mind.

His mouth tastes of food; muffins and frozen yoghurt, all the sweet things he loves. Claire runs her tongue over those impossibly white teeth, a rare sign of the vanity of the man he used to be. His own tongue, large and awkward compared to hers, lingers behind the barrier, as if he can't quite bring himself to penetrate her mouth. Maybe he isn't ready to trust himself with such an intimate act after what he did to her brain.

Claire runs her hand through his hair. He keeps it short now because she said she didn't like it long, and she knows he would do anything she asked because he trusts her to do what's right. It gives Claire a power over him that she never thought she would enjoy. She's his conscience, his guiding hand, and it scares her so much that she sometimes wakes at night, beset by nightmares of what would happen if she faltered and guided the most powerful man on Earth to do wrong again. The responsibility overwhelms her, but it is exhilarating at the same time.

Sylar is growing more confident now. He has kissed before, she knows he has; Lydia, Elle, some girl he killed but who was resurrected by Claire's blood. And yet, when his tongue ventures forward to meet hers, it's as if he's experiencing his first kiss. Claire wants to hold back, to slow the pace because she knows he's too dependent on her emotionally and this is wrong. But he's a handsome man and she spends so much time with him that it's only natural she should feel attracted. She responds to his hesitation by caressing his tongue with her own, enticing him into the neutral ground between their teeth and into her own mouth. It's a facsimile of penetration, and for one moment, Claire feels a gentle echo of the violation she had once feared from him. There's no fear now, though, just desire.

She's surprised when he's the one who pulls away. He leans his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his breathing uneven. He's older than her, after all, and maybe he knows that she doesn't love him. They share a connection now, a real connection less tenuous than the circumstances of their lives, but Claire doesn't know if she will ever love him.

He pulls away slightly, turns his head to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. Without a word, he walks away. Claire touches her cheek and smiles.


End file.
